


What the Heart is Full Of

by LonePiper



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, F/M, Post episode 19, Sexual Assault, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-13 05:21:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11752908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonePiper/pseuds/LonePiper
Summary: Watching Mustang recover, a force that only wants control.All Mustang’s instincts as a soldier were telling him that he had misread the situation. Things were far worse than he had first thought and they were far from safe.





	What the Heart is Full Of

**Author's Note:**

> This is a departure from most of my writing which is pretty fluffy/cute/feel good. Warnings are there, so please heed them if need be. I hope the violence isn't seen as totally gratuitous but there to serve the characters and story.
> 
> I consider this to be AU, since the narrative does diverge from the events of Canon for a while. But since I'm a Canon Junkie, rest assured that everything is put back in place by the end of the story. Also the homunculus-human idea is portrayed a little differently to what we see in Canon.

Above her own heavy breathing she could hear a strange noise. She didn’t want to look away from the prone form of her wounded Colonel, but the subtle noise was too close, too insistent and too unexpected.

Turning to look in the direction of the noise she saw a wraith of blackness swirl about a tiny glimmer of red, and an abominable form started to coalesce. She was barely understanding what was happening when, without warning, a black shard shot out from the form and pierced her chest. Her mind spun as redness filled her vision. Then silently screaming she was pushed down into black void.

**********

It was dark and quiet and the overwhelming feeling of pain filled numbness pulled at the edges of his consciousness. Though pain and grogginess Mustang fought to find some awareness of his surroundings. The light was subdued and the smell of disinfectant hung in the air.

Then it hit him.

Chasing the homunculus into the underground corridors had turned into a disaster. Havoc’s injury, his own wound; then searing himself with his flames and continuing the chase, all flashed in his mind.

He remembered the fight with Lust, the flames and ash. Al went for help and he collapsed. Hawkeye was with him. Then nothing.

One thought was driving him into consciousness. Where were his subordinates? Were they safe? Screaming in his mind. “Where is the Lieutenant?”

As he crawled back into wakefulness he took in his surrounds. His left side felt impossibly bruised and sharply painful. The hospital room was dark and quiet. He didn't know what time it was, but it felt like somewhere in the lost hours of the early morning. The room was empty except for one other figure.

To the left of his bed was Lieutenant Hawkeye, sitting comfortably in a chair and quietly looking at him. A wave of gratitude flooded over him.

“Thank God,” Mustang thought, “she’s alright.”

Hawkeye watched the Colonel in the muted light.

“Oh good. Awake at last,” she said.

He was so relived to hear her voice that he barely noticed the casual nature of her address.

“How long have I been out?” Mustang asked.

“Quite a few hours,” she replied. "What with the surgery and all. Between the lacerations and the burns the surgeons had quite a lot to patch up. But they say you’ll heal up fine.”

“Good, I can’t afford to be stuck here for too long.”

“A man of your fine constitution should have no problem getting up and about in no time,” Hawkeye said.

Somehow the words hung in Mustang’s mind. He was still pushing back the grogginess, but there it was again. Hawkeye sounded far too casual. Maybe it was just him, coming out of the anaesthetic. And Hawkeye had been through hell too.

“How are you, Lieutenant?” Mustang asked turning his head slowly to look more closely at her.

“Oh, I’m just fine,” she said as she got up from her chair and sat gently beside him on the bed.

It had been a close thing. Far too close. Mustang recalled fighting to save his Lieutenant from being impaled, as Havoc had been. It had taken almost everything he had to stand and incinerate the monster.

Usually he’d feel calmer, knowing she was safe. And yet. She had moved smoothly, almost languidly. Not her usual precise but easy manner. Perhaps she was just tired.

“It’s good to see you’re alright.” Mustang tried to turn a little on the bed, but pain pinned down his entire left side. At least the grogginess was passing and he could start to think clearly.

“How’s Havoc?” he asked, keen to know about his welfare. “Is he ok?”

“As far as I know he’s doing fine. It’s you I’m more concerned about,” she replied.

The feeling of unease grew. That wasn’t the way Hawkeye talked about members of the team. Despite her own ordeal, or any amount of fatigue, she would know exactly how Havoc was. In these circumstances she would never talk about him so uncaringly.

“Are you sure you’re ok, Lieutenant?” Mustang asked again as he focused on her face. She seemed ok. No obvious wounds. No look of stress. In fact she looked relaxed. Considering the trauma she’d been through it was strange that she looked so at ease. 

She reached out a hand and laid it on his chest. The familiarity of the action surprised Mustang. He felt his senses fully alert. The anaesthetic replaced by adrenaline.

“Lieutenant?” he quizzed as she played with the hem of the bed sheet between her fingers.

“That was quite a display you put on back there.” Her hold on the sheet tightened as she slowly drew it down over his torso.

Mustang stared at her in disbelief. The familiarity of sitting in the bed was one thing but this was not the way Hawkeye behaved. Perhaps the stress from the battle was affecting her more than she realised. Mustang took hold of the sheet with his right hand.

“Lieutenant, you’ve been through a lot today. Are you really feeling well enough to be here?”

“I’ve been through more than you know”, she smiled darkly.

She paused for a moment then took the front of the hospital shirt and started to unbutton it.

Mustang tried to lift his left arm to stop her. The action sent pain shuddering through his entire left side. From his shoulder, it shot down his arm to his hand making it feel like shattered jelly. At the same time searing agony sliced through every nerve down through his side and into his leg. A wave of dizziness made his vision swim. Hawkeye continued to smile, unconcerned by his obvious discomfort. He let go of the sheet and grabbed her wrist in disbelief, but she continued to unbutton the shirt one handed.

“It was a close thing and could have turned out much worse.” She pushed back the light fabric of the shirt. “You really need to take better care of yourself.”

It felt like someone had slapped him in the head. As he scrutinised Hawkeye’s bizarre behaviour he could only think that the trauma had wounded her more than anyone realised. He softened his grip on her wrist.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye, I know all this has been rough on you, but you’ve got to stop,” he spoke softly, trying to reach the solider he knew.

She ran her hand lightly over the bandages that covered his abdomen and then more firmly across his chest.

“We don’t what to see such a rare specimen damaged,” she said in a silky smooth voice.

Her touch was cool and dry, and Mustang felt his skin prickle under her fingertips.

“Hawkeye, please. You need to stop. You’re not yourself at the moment. Please, call a Nurse and we’ll get you some help.”

She paused and looked at Mustang’s gentle expression, his eyes full of care and concern. Mustang watched as her eyes flashed with barely controlled desire and her grin deepened.

“Oh this is too precious,” she chuckled as she tipped her head to the side. “I really can't keep this up any longer.” She smiled at Mustang, a look full of primal desire that shook him to the core. Her entire expression changed and her eyes became dark and hard.

“It’s me you idiot!”

“Lieutenant, it’ll be ok,” he continued, suddenly trying to convince himself as much as her.

“Really? Haven’t you recognised me yet?”

All Mustang’s instincts as a soldier were telling him that he had misread the situation. Things were far worse than he had first thought and they were far from safe.

“It’s me,” she smirked triumphantly. “Lust!”

The name hung in the air and refused to make any sense. He wanted the deny the possibility of it and to continue to speak encouragingly to his Lieutenant.

But he knew the person sitting beside him wasn’t his Lieutenant. Perhaps he’d sensed it from the beginning, her behaviour, voice, her attitude and movement, nothing felt like Hawkeye. Still Mustang tried to refute the impossible, terrifying truth of it.

“That’s impossible,” he whispered in disbelief, more to himself than to her.

He stared at her, no longer play acting as his Lieutenant. The shape was Hawkeye, but that was all. Looking into her eyes he could sense nothing that was her. All he could feel radiating from her was evil and inhuman.

His mind reeled at the thought. Was it possible? Until a little while ago he had not known that Homunculi even existed. The thought that one could possess a human, enslave the body and doom the mind and soul. It was too unreal and terrifying to even conceive.

“It’s impossible,” he repeated in disbelief as he looked into the things eyes for some echo of Hawkeye. “I incinerated you. You were nothing but ash.”

“So it seemed,” she purred. “And yet here I am. Perhaps you should have paid more attention to me and less to your Lieutenant, and then she wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

**********  
_She was. She wasn’t. She was aware, but aware of what? It wasn't blackness, it wasn’t light. It was… It wasn’t…_

__

__

__

_Aware of self, but without form or presence of any sense. Senses? She was aware of self. But where was she, what was she, why was she. Growing into the awareness was one certainty._

_Fear. ___

____

_It rushed like a surging wave into her tiny awareness and smashed into her frail sense of self. It was devastating and in the moment of growing awareness she was shattered by complete fear at the absence of anything else. And she fell again into the abyss._  
**********

Mustang struggled to grasp the situation. It was too sickening and unreal to comprehend. Somehow Lust had bored into Hawkeye’s body and taken control. Yet she referred to the Lieutenant as ‘being in’ a predicament. As if Hawkeye still existed, somewhere.

Mustang stared desperately at the abomination for some hint of the woman he knew.

“Lieutenant, are you there? Lieutenant?” The eyes remain hard and cold. “Answer me,” he pleaded. But there was no reply.

His compassion for his friend turned to fear for her life, and the confusion he had felt was being replaced by rage. But the fight was only beginning and he couldn’t let his own emotions overwhelm him. He took a deep breath and forced himself to speak calmly.

“Where is she, you bitch?”

“I’m not sure exactly,” Lust mused as she absentmindedly started stroking Mustang’s chest again, tracing a line down his sternum and around his pectorals. “But don’t worry Colonel, I’m sure she’ll be aware of all the fun we’re having.”

Lust stood, walked smoothly across the room and locked the door. 

“We don’t want any interruptions now, do we,” she said matter of factly as she turned back to Mustang. “And calling for help will only result in more people getting hurt. I know you wouldn’t want that, so keep it quiet and don’t be stupid.”

The raw wound through his left side had begun pounding, but his mind was clear of the anaesthetic. Pushing himself up with his right arm, he tried again to move and get out of the bed. A wall of pain overwhelmed him, radiating out from his wounded side and paralysing half his body. His head spun and blackness swam into his vision. A wave of nausea flooded him and he slumped back into the bed.

“Oh, come on.” Lust smiled disbelievingly. “You think you’re in any condition to fight? I didn’t think you’d be so foolish.”

Once more he tried to lift himself off the bed, and once more pain convulsed through his body and he fainted back, half falling out of the bed.

“Wonderful effort, but save that energy. You’re going to need it,” she said taking hold of his shoulders with Hawkeye’s strong hands and lifting him back into the bed.

Mustang exhaled sharply and focused to remain conscious as the pain subsided.

“Not that you can fight back, because you’re a bit snookered. To stop me you need to hurt your Lieutenant.” A mocking sneer split her face, “And I can't see that happening. Can you?”

As the dizziness and nausea faded Mustang struggled to clear his mind of the numbing horror and confusion of the situation. He had to stay focused. Physically he could barely move and he had no idea if Hawkeye could be reached, let alone saved. Still he fought to hold on to reason and to hope.

**********  
_Awareness of self emerged again from the nothing, but without any sense to hold to. Without anything to anchor to, the paralysing fear swelled again._

_But this time she fought. If fear was all she could sense, then she would welcome fear. As it beat upon her awareness, she felt a second wave of horror. Not the fear of awareness within a void, but a horror that brought with it memory. A memory of utter devastation and panic fresh in her. A wound, raw and aching in her psyche._

_The Colonel. Dead._

_She had let herself believe it, feel it. And she let herself feel it again. The nightmare moment became her foundation as she felt again the loss and dread, felt the gun in her hand, the hot tears streaming down her face, heard Alphonse’s words of defiance, saw the blinding light of flame, smelt the burning flesh._

_Fear began to be tempered by understanding. And behind the fear flowed a new sense, desire, longing._

_Lust._

_In an instant she understood, and the impossible reality of her situation appeared in her awareness. Her body, her senses were under the control of the homunculus._

__

__

_Lust had taken her._  
************

Lust sat on the chair and leant over to unlace and remove the boots and socks, smiling as she slid a throwing knife out of one of them.

“I was truly surprised by your Lieutenant’s reaction when I told her you were dead,” she said. Mustang watched as she stood, slowly unbuckled the straps of the shoulder holster and laid it out on the chair.

“Her grief and rage were outrageous. It was totally delicious,” she smiled, savouring the memory.

As she spoke, Lust continued to systematically strip off the clothing the Lieutenant had been wearing. Starting with pulling the black turtle neck shirt over her head then deftly removing the bra.

“I was actually turned on a bit by it. The sheer rawness of her emotions.”

Mustang remembered Hawkeye kneeling on the floor, tears streaming down her face in the belief that he was dead. He knew how close she had been to death in that moment. Now she was trapped in a limbo that defied understanding. He had no idea how much she could perceive of what was happening around her, to her. But he had to believe that she could be redeemed from this enslavement.

Lust took her time unbuckling the belt and sliding it out from the loops, to be laid over the back of the chair. Then unbuttoning the trousers, she made sure to keep eye contact with Mustang as they fell to the floor and she stepped out of them.

“I mean, we’re not unaware that there’s possibly a lot more between you two than you let on. But I really was not expecting that.” Lust bent over to take off the briefs, and stood again to look at Mustang. Holding the pants over the pile of clothes, she dropped them and said, “I’m sure you would have felt a little embarrassed if you'd seen it yourself.”

She stood before him naked.

Mustang felt an instinctive reaction to look away, to show some decency and respect Hawkeye’s vulnerability. But he resisted the instinct. This wasn’t Hawkeye and he determined to keep looking his enemy in the face.

“You know, this is a really nice body,” Lust said as she flexed and stretched. “Really, very nice.”

She reached her hands behind her head to undo the hair clip, shook her head and Hawkeye’s golden blonde hair fell down over her shoulders. Lust looked down approvingly at the stolen body and ran her hands casually up and down over Hawkeye’s torso.

“There’s plenty here to appreciate, don't you think?” she taunted, striking a series of mockingly seductive poses before Mustang.

He looked at her, Riza Hawkeye’s body, but it wasn’t her. Riza Hawkeye was beautiful. The form before him was hers, but the thing that was speaking and acting through her was anything but beautiful. And somehow the monster within corrupted the form.

“Worth looking at I’d say,” Lust said as she twirled around and looked back at Mustang over her shoulder. 

For the first time in years Mustang saw Hawkeye’s back. The scars and the tattoo had faded a little but the thought of how he had betrayed her secrets shamed him still. He involuntarily cast his eyes down.

Lust saw Mustang look away.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she cooed sarcastically. “Backsides not your thing?” She slowly ran one hand along the outside of the buttock, across under the curve of the muscle and then, gradually brought her hand up to rest on the sacrum.

“It feels fantastically tight,” she said with some admiration. “Let me see.”

Lust sauntered to the small adjoining bathroom and turned to use the mirror to inspect as much of Hawkeye’s back as she could. And as she did she uttered a low murmur of deviant wonder.

“What is this?” Lust chuckled with sadistic surprise, as she saw for the first time the tattoo and the scaring on Hawkeye’s back.

“My my, this girl has got some wild stories to tell,” she said as she turned her head side to side to get a better view.

“That’s pretty complex alchemy… Ah, what?” she exclaimed as she realised what she was looking at.

“That’s Flame Alchemy isn’t it? Is this where you keep your notes? And she was into that? That is so, so, ah I don’t know what it is but I love it!” She lifted the hair away so as to better admire the reflection of the alchemic markings and the twisted ridges of damaged skin.

“And burn scars? Did you do that? You must have done that!” she laughed as she reached back and trailed her fingertips along the raised scars.

“Ow, that would have hurt. I mean, I should know. What, does she like a bit of rough? Or are you just a very, very, sick bastard?” she asked, with something like approval in her tone.

**********  
_Pain. Needling. Burning. Physical pain arced through the fear and the nothing like lightening out of storm clouds. Her sense of self knew that pain. It almost defined her. She sensed the touch against her scars and it radiated out across her skin. Then the cool air across her face, the hard floor beneath her feet, the brush of her hair against her shoulders. She could feel it all._

_And sounds were soaking into her awareness. Words from a familiar, muffled voice. Far away. Her own voice, closer, but not her words._

_The nothing was much less numbing now and the fear was subsiding. She could feel, she could hear._

_A sniper, trained and tried. She would wait her for her target. She would wait, and she would fight.  
**********_

Mustang’s right fist clenched the bedsheets in rage. His body was unable to fight back, that was obvious. And even if he could fight, how could he stop Lust without hurting Hawkeye? Desperately he hoped that somewhere beneath the layers of Lust’s control, his Lieutenant was still conscious, and that together they could find the way to defeat this monster.

Lust walked slowly back towards the bed. Even the way she moved was wrong. Hawkeye moved with precision and grace and purpose. But somehow Lust slinked towards him, effortless and careless. Drunk on thoughts of pleasure.

“I like how, how fit she is, don't you?” She held up her arm. “I mean there are some limitations. Not so sharp,” she said as she waved her fingers, “but given a little time I’ll have my lovely fingers back. Meanwhile, she is well cut,” smiling sarcastically at her joke as she flexed the bicep and traced a line along the hard curve of muscle toward her shoulder.

She slowly brought her hand down across from the shoulder to the breast and paused to fondled herself gently, massaging and rubbing her thumb across the nipple, before continuing down to caress the abdomen.

“So hard, so tight,” she purred. Her fingertips traced lazy circles across the stomach. “I’ll bet she’s got plenty of stamina.”

Lust stood by the bed and looked down at Mustang.

“Now, let me tell you what’s going to happen next.” Picking up his near useless left hand, she started caressing the back of his fingers across her crotch.

“I’m going to fuck you, and you’re going to enjoy it. Then you might start to understand who you’re dealing with. And don’t worry,” she chuckled perversely, “I’m sure we’ll all have fun.”

Whatever Mustang had been expecting, it wasn’t that. He’d thought Lust would just kill him and take Hawkeye’s body. Her comments about him ‘getting up and about’ and ‘looking after himself’ suddenly made sense. She wasn’t intending to eliminate him, she just wanted to hurt him. To prove to him who was the dominant force in his world. And this, abusing Hawkeye like this, to assault him; was the most hurtful proof of where control lay.

She lifted one knee onto the bed beside Mustang’s hip and began to swing her other leg across. With what strength he could muster Mustang brought his right arm across and pushed her back. Pain wracked through him again, and a muted scream caught in his throat. He knew it was a useless attempt, but he wouldn't just give in.

Lust easily regained her balance and stood by the bed. She turned to the pile of discarded clothes. 

“Alright then. If that’s what you like.” Picking up Hawkeye’s belt from the back of the chair she casually grabbed Mustangs right wrist and pulled it back to the head of the bed frame. Mustang tried to pull away, grunting with agony as the movement ignited pain throughout his wounded left side. She pulled the belt tight around his wrist strapping it to the bedhead. He was effectively immobilised.

“Now soldier, let’s check out your kit,” she smiled as she ran her fingers under the waistband of the hospital pants and slowly, carefully pulled them down.

Mustang felt his breathing quick and shallow. A kind of panic was gripping him and he fought to steady himself, to breath normally and to keep focused on the fight.

“Just shut up,’ he breathed hard as he glared at Lust. “If you’re going to do it, do it. But for God’s sake, just shut up.”

Again she mounted the bed and knelt above him, supporting her weight on her legs, hands placed either side of his shoulders. Mustang looked up into the familiar face, split by an unfamiliar smile. Lust leant in to kiss him. He turned his head, but he could only move so far and Lust easily adjusted her angle.

Her lips brushed gently across his, almost chaste in their touch. The gentleness of her touch surprised him. He turned to look at her and was struck by her sheer closeness. This wasn’t his Lieutenant, he knew that, but he couldn't stop the sudden churn in his chest as she again drew in and ever so gently kissed him. He felt the pressure as she drew in against his mouth and finally ran the tip of her tongue across his lips.

It suddenly occurred to him that she smelt like Hawkeye. For all that was so perverted about her possessed body, her scent was unchanged. The hint of familiar toiletries mixed with sweat. It was her, unexpectedly and powerfully intoxicating. His mouth opened a little as he breathed her in and he found her tongue caressing his own.

Lust shifted her weight back and settled down onto Mustang’s groin. She brought her left hand down to rest on his hip and with her right hand started to press against his throat, feeling his pulse quicken under her firm touch. Mustang felt her against his crotch, warm, soft and moist. Her eyes glowed at him as she started to rock steadily back and forth against him.

His throat tightened under her cool dry hand and the throbbing in his wound intensified. Lust’s weight against his thigh hurt and felt good at the same time. Mustang felt his body betraying him.

This was not Riza, and this was in no way what he wanted. But there was no doubt his body was reacting to Lust’s unrelenting stimulation. As she continued to ride against him, he was becoming hard beneath her. And he was disgusted with himself.

“I’m sorry Lieutenant,” Mustang whispered. “I don't know if you can hear me, but I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” The pain and remorse in his voice was palpable. In shame he turned so he wouldn't have to look at that face. Riza Hawkeye’s face. But Riza wasn't there.

***********  
_She had to focus. She had to stay with her senses._

_She couldn’t pull away and lose herself again in the void._

_She heard, and she felt, everything._

_The familiar voice was clear now, and the pain it bore only made the touch more repulsive._

_She was being used to hurt him, and she felt the hurt._  
************

Lust grabbed him by the jaw and wrenched his face back to look at her. Her eyes foul with fury and hunger.

“Damn it, look at me, you wretched man! This is what you want, what you both want and you know it. She knows it. I know it. So just take it.”

Mustang looked at her, at the inhuman hunger and desire in those eyes. He thought of the expression in Hawkeye’s eyes when she’d offered to share her Father’s secret with him, and when he’d first seen her in Ishval. The look in her eyes the day they saw the Elric’s house and on the stairs after he’d burnt Gluttony.

He thought about the times he’d betrayed of her, of how he had failed to protect her, even hurt her. His total failure to protect her, even now. He gave up anger and fear and desire, and let the feelings of shame and guilt wash over him. He wasn’t a soldier, a commander, an alchemist. He was just a useless man who failed to keep his promises. He could protect no-one. He was nothing. His powerlessness became his only weapon. As his mind wallowed in self loathing, his body followed. He had never felt more impotent.

Lust saw the sadness in his eyes and felt him subsiding beneath her. Rage hissed from her lips and she drew back her arm, back handing him with full force across the face. Mustang felt blackness swirl behind his eyes from the blow and his ears rang.

She got down and paced back and forth bedside the bed, furious, glaring at Mustang. Until she stopped suddenly and smiled at him, a cunning, hateful smile.

“You know I can hurt her,” her syrupy smooth voice made the suggestion even more threatening.

She turned back to the chair and drew one of Hawkeye’s semi automatic guns from the shoulder holster.

**********  
_Completely familiar and totally certain. She felt it. She knew it. The shape as it settled against her palm, the accustomed weight in her hand, the texture touching her skin. She held it. It was a part of self. But it was an object separate to self. It was a bridge across the void and she knew she had regained not just sense, but control._

_She contracted her grip on the gun in hand, then let the contraction extend out as far as she could._

_It was an infinitesimal gambit, but she had begun to fight._  
**********

For the merest heartbeat Lust froze. Mustang’s attention was caught by the sudden moment of stillness after the near constant motion. Her shoulders suddenly tensed, knotting up and highlighting the muscle definition across her lean back. Almost as soon as it was noticeable it was gone. She relaxed and turned, putting the gun’s muzzle to her temple.

“Of course I can’t go all the way,” she mused. “More’s the pity. Watching your grief at Riza Hawkeye’s demise would be so satisfying. But I might be dead to. So, no fun there.” She lowered the gun from her temple and started to wave it about as she spoke.

“No, but I can hurt her. Your loyal subordinate would take a bullet for you, wouldn’t she?”

Lust pressed the muzzle into Hawkeye’s thigh.

“Not enough to kill her. But she's not going to be able to follow you for long with a shattered femur, is she?”

Burning with rage but powerless to do anything, Mustang bit back the futile threats and concentrated on being alert to any weakness, any possibility that Lust might show a flaw. The very fact that Lust was referring to Hawkeye in the present tense continued to give him hope that she was still alive, still somehow present and able to be freed.

“But of course I’m being overly dramatic.” Lust said, trying to control her anger. “I’m not about to do anything to attract unwanted attention. Or anything that would be an impediment to our immediate fun.” She reached into the boot she had taken off earlier. “Now, just look what I found earlier in the Lieutenant’s boot.”

It was the knife, the style Hughes had carried. Its brushed steel blade caught glimmers of light in the darkened room.

“I could just slice off her skin. Sliver by sliver.” She twirled the blade between her fingers. “Pity I can't start on her back. That is where all the interesting bits are.”

Lust stared mercilessly at Mustang and pressed the knife point slowly into the flesh at the corner of the collarbone and shoulder and started twisting it back and forth.

Mustang threw back his head, fighting back the fear and anger. “Stop it you bitch!” he nearly shouted.

The knife point disappeared into the skin to be replaced by a bead of blood, shining red against the steel blade. Slowly she drew the blade across the top of her breast to her sternum, leaving a line of red across the pale skin.

“Ouch,” she said her voice dripping with fake discomfort.

Mustang waited anxiously for the red sparks flashing over the wound as it healed. But nothing happened. Something was different about the homunculus’ possessed human body. It seemed the regenerative powers, like the talons, were undeveloped. The gash across her flesh remained. The only red, the blood that trickled down her breast.

Lust placed the blade point at her shoulder again, preparing to cut a second line across her chest.

“Damn you, stop it!” said Mustang. Futile words and he knew it.

Again there was a moment. She seemed to seize up and the arm holding the knife tensed till all the tendons across the back of the hand stood out. There was a tiny flicker in the eyes before Lust tilted her head and blinked. The moment passed as Lust took a deep breath. Mustang hoped desperately that what he thought he saw was real.

Lust looked squarely at Mustang.

“Would you fuck me if it meant I stopped hurting her?" she asked him directly. 

“What?” Mustang had been so focused on Lust’s momentary lapse that he hadn’t registered what she’d said.

Lust pressed the knife point deeper and a trickle of blood started to run down her breast.

“Damn it. What?” Mustang repeated in dismay.

“You heard me,’” Lust hissed. “Would you fuck me if it would stop me slicing up your Lady Lieutenant?”

The knife blade was slowly moving again, leaving a wake of blood.

“Stop it," he pleaded desperately. The belt bit into Mustang’s wrist as he reefed uselessly against it.

“Would you?” Lust insisted.

Mustang was sickened by the simple brutality and even more so by his powerlessness to stop it. His voice trembled. “Yes,” he said.

It was the only chance he was going to be given and he could think of nothing else. 

"Say it," Lust goaded. 

"I'll fuck you,” he breathed, hollow and almost hopeless. “I’ll fuck you, if you stop cutting her.” 

“Cutting who?” Lust persisted, delighting in her total control of the moment.

“The Lieutenant.”

“Who?”

“Hawkeye.” 

“Say her name,” she insisted contemptuously. “You can do that much can’t you? You pathetic man.”

“Riza Hawkeye.”

Lust was giddy with delight. “Now, say all of it,” she prompted.

Mustang stared empty eyed at Lust. “I’ll fuck you, if you don’t hurt Riza Hawkeye,” he stated, void of all emotion.

A look of triumph crept across Lust's face. She grinned hungrily as she again climbed onto the bed and straddled Mustang.

Even as he’d said the words, Mustang realised the contradiction.

“But what would be the satisfaction in that?” he asked as he looked sadly at her.

“What?” she asked, irritated by the question.

”What's in it for you?” he asked as his gaze again fixed on her. “You are Lust. You want desire and need. And need - well, you need lust. I don't desire this, Hawkeye doesn’t desire this. This isn’t desire or want or lust. This is just threats. I didn’t think threats would be your style. It’s seems a hollow victory really.”

“What?” she growled, confusion and anger growing with her.

Then to Lust’s complete surprise Mustang smiled. A small, sad smile.

“You’re right,” he said, as much to himself as to her. “I do want her. I want Riza Hawkeye more than anything. But I want her in ways you can never understand. I want to be beside her and know she’s part of my whole life. I want to see her smile and perhaps even make her happy for a moment.”

As he spoke, the truth of what he was saying gave him a strange kind of courage. And then there it was again. The flicker in Lust’s eyes. Mustang was sure that he wasn’t imagining it. Hawkeye was there. She could hear it all and was fighting with him.

“I want to relax beside her and share ideas with her. I want a chance to create something good and fair with her. And yes,” he paused momentarily as the words he never thought he’d say came to his lips. “I do want to hold her, and I’ll run my fingers through her hair and kiss her and know all of her, just surrounding me. And I’ll never let her go. But I don't want this. Never this. And she knows it. And you know it, Lust. This. This is nothing.”

Lust looked down on him, a storm of rage growing inside her.

He was right.

It wasn't just about the bodies and the grinding and the sweat. She wanted him to want it, to lust after it like she did. But she was hoist on her own petard. The very act of manipulation, of trying to force him had undone her own need to see him surrender to the desires they both knew he harboured.

She said nothing as the storm broke and simply reached out a hand and wrapped strong fingers around his throat. Her face contorted in fury as she steadily crushed his air supply. But as blackness swarmed across his vision Mustang saw her eyes. They flickered again and she seemed to lose focus. He was on the verge of blacking out all together when the hand at his throat simply slackened and he was able to take a shuddering breath.

Lust froze, one hand hanging at his throat, unable to fully control the body she had enslaved.

Mustang knew it now with absolute certainty. Hawkeye was there. She was active within her body, aware of what was happening and fighting.

“Hawkeye,” he spluttered as the took another breath. “I know you’re there. Hawkeye!”

Lust raised the free hand and struck him again across his face. The blow knocked his upper body sideways, but restrained as he was he couldn't fall. The violent movement sent pain screaming through his body. He shut his eyes as he fought to stay conscious, opening them just in time to see Lust bring Hawkeye’s hand back in a fist to strike again. The blow landed square on his sternum, but was noticeably weaker this time.

“Come on Lieutenant,” he coughed. “You can fight it!”

Lust’s face contorted in rage. It was almost unrecognisable as Hawkeye’s face any more.

“Shut up!’ Lust spat at him through clenched teeth. “That pitiful bitch couldn’t help herself before. How do you think she can help you now?” The tendons in her neck were standing out like cables as she fought for control. “I’m the one you should be addressing! Me, Lust!”

As her rage grew, her control over Hawkeye’s body lessened. Mustang was certain he was reading the situation right. He had to seize the tactical advantage. If he could provoke her further, Lust may lose control altogether.

“Lust, you couldn't even reform your body,” he goaded. “You had to steal a human body.”

The hand at Mustang’s throat began to contract away, the whole arm curling up rigid against the chest. Lust raised the other hand to strike him again, but as the blow fell it suddenly stopped mid-way, the muscles in the arm tense and trembling visibly as Hawkeye fought for control of the body they shared. Mustang heard a guttural cry sound from somewhere deep within.

“You’re too weak Lust. How does it feel to be overcome by a mere human?” Mustang continued.

Not just the arms were rigid now, but the whole body was going into seizure. Her body raised up on her knees as the muscles in her thighs contracted. Her jaw was clenched fast and her nostrils flared like a tormented beast. The base of her head touched between her shoulder blades, her torso arching back further and further.

“You had to hijack my Lieutenant. And that was a mistake. She’s strong. So much stronger than you’d give any human credit for.”

Body contorted in a grand mal seizure and shuddering with the strain, Hawkeye and Lust struggled out of view, within the tortured frame. With an inhuman moan the blonde form suddenly collapsed, falling forward against Mustang’s chest. The jolt sent a massive wave of pain through him, but he didn’t care. Hair covered her face and she lay deathly still.

“Hawkeye?” he whispered between laboured breaths. “Lieutenant, what’s happening?” he begged her, still desperately unsure who he was actually speaking to.

“Hawkeye!” he said with a desperate urgency. “Hawkeye! Please, answer me.” With his right hand still fastened he tried to raise his left to check for a pulse. But the numbing pain still made moving a near impossibility.

“Come on Hawkeye, wake up,” he pleaded as he tilted his head to try and see her face beneath the hair. “Please, you can do this.”

The sound of his own panicked breathing filled his ears. The uncertainty of the moment was tearing at his reason. The weight of her body, slumped across him, bore down upon his lacerated side. The pain of it insignificant compared to the fear that was welling up within.

Since Lust had locked the door, Mustang had taken seriously her threat to kill anybody who came into the room. Through it all neither he nor Lust had raised their voice above a conversational level. It had been surreal. But now, with Lust at least disabled, he was about to call out for help. As he began to cry out, he heard a soft moan come from the prone form. He felt her take a deep, shuddering breath and tremble against him. Slowly, painfully, she lifted her naked body upright and looked at Mustang.

Her face was fatigued beyond belief and her eyes were vacant. He looked at her still trying to determine who was in control.

“Hawkeye,” he begged softly. “Please. Hawkeye? Answer me.”

Focus came gradually and she finally looked at her Colonel with her steady brown eyes. It was her. Riza Hawkeye. Bloodied from the fight but not bowed.

A tremor passed through her exhausted body and she put out her hand against Mustang’s chest, leaning on him to steady herself. He welcomed the warmth of her hand against his skin. 

Looking down at the deep cut above her left breast, she raised her other hand and slowly started to pick at the wound. The seemingly gruesome action shocked Mustang, and he instinctively wanted to stop her. Then, amongst the red of her blood, he glimpsed it. A red that filled him with awe and disgust. The tiny remnant of the Stone emerge from the wound. As it touched the air it collapsed into dust and fell from her fingers.

Hawkeye stared distantly at her fingers where the stone had been and flexed them, as if to confirm her control of her own hands. She looked at her knuckles, reddened and swollen from striking her commanding officer. Mustang watched in silence, unsure of what to say. Lust was gone and Hawkeye was safe. They had won, but it felt far from victorious.

Hawkeye blinked, and looked up again at Mustang. For some time she seemed to anchor herself in his gaze. Then, with unsteady hands, she reached up and began to undo the belt that still fastened him.

“Just a moment, Colonel. I’ll get you out of this,” she said quietly.

Her voice. So tired and raw. But her. And that her first thought was to help him, to free him from his restraint, nearly broke his heart. He wanted to know if she was alright. He wanted to comfort her. But as his arm dropped tingling with numbness, all he could do was grunt in pain.

In silence she carefully lifted herself off the Colonel and stood beside the bed.

“Lieutenant,” he whispered. “Lieutenant, are you alright?”

“I am,” she paused, collecting her thoughts, “I am, here.” She drew herself up to attention, “Reporting for duty,” she said finding herself in the simple formalities. And she began to re-dress the Colonel, pulling up his pants and re-buttoning his shirt.

He wanted to protest, and to tell her to stop. But that would have been utter foolishness. He couldn’t re-dress himself and even though it shamed him completely, he would allowed his adjunct the simple dignity of doing her job in assisting her commanding officer.

Her hands paused by the dressings over his lacerated side. Blood was slowly oozing out the wounds soaking the bandages. “This needs attention,” was all she said, and for the first time her voice hinted at the brokenness she felt.

Once she had dressed the Colonel, and straightened out the bed linen, Hawkeye collected up her uniform and walked to the bathroom.

Dropping her uniform on a stool, she leant against the basin and looked at the mirror. Her reflection looked back at her. Her face. Her eyes. Staring into her own eyes. She felt hollow. A devastating emptiness threatened to overwhelm her. Unvoiced screams ached in her throat and she began to shake uncontrollably.

She lifted her trembling hands away from the basin and looked at them. Bile churned in her throat. Hoping to stop the tremors she clenched her fists till her nails bit into her palms and her knuckles turned white.

Then, without really knowing why, she reached over her shoulder and touched the scars on her back. Her scars. Scared because she had asked to be. Scars that had given her back her freedom, her self. As she brushed her fingertips over the damaged, healed skin she calmed herself and the shaking gradually eased. She’d done it before, and she knew she could heal again.

As she quieted herself she noticed the cuts and blood above her breast. Running water into the basin she set about the task of cleaning herself.

Methodically, she re-dressed herself and wadded some tissue under her bra strap. It would suffice until she could properly dress the wound. After finishing her hair, she took one last glance a herself in the mirror.

The silence in the room screamed in Mustang’s ears as he waited for her to return. After what seemed far too long a time she walked out in her uniform, bare feet padding softly on the floor.

She sat back in the chair. It felt like an impossible age had passed since he had first seen her in that chair. But the whole nightmare had probably been less than half an hour. Mustang watched in silence as Hawkeye put on her boots, belt, holster and weapons. He let her find something of herself in the necessary routine.

When his Lieutenant was fully dressed she turned to him and said, “I’ll call a doctor now, sir.”

“No,” Mustang said, gently but with a ring of command in his voice. “Please. Please, Lieutenant, come here. I need to see you.”

Hawkeye hesitated a moment, torn between obeying his order and calling for the assistance he required. She saw the uncertainty in his face and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He watched her sitting there staring at the floor. They stayed in silence for a time, each too shattered to speak. Mustang desperately wanted to reach out and assure himself that she was ok.

“Lieutenant, I… I…” he stumbled. ‘I what?’ he thought to himself. Anything he could think of to say seemed wholly insufficient and entirely stupid. So they continued to sit together in silence, until he finally reached out his right hand to reassure himself that she was really there.

They so rarely touched. His hand brushed against her shoulder, and she flinched. Mustang froze and his heart sank. Had that much been broken between them? Was she that unsure of him? Mustang feared she would pull away all together. But she steadied herself, lifting her head till her gaze was on Mustang, as he cautiously laid his hand on her shoulder.

Worry and loss filled his eyes and Hawkeye knew it was in her grasp to allay his fears. She found his hand with her own and, holding it to her cheek, slowly leant into her Commander’s caress until he was certain of her presence.

His touch on her cheek. His skin against her. The memory of his touch while Lust held her captive slithered into her mind. Touch that was forced and abhorrent. But she was practiced in dealing with difficult memories. She knew she could deal with these and she pressed even more deeply into his hand.

She reached out her free hand and softly touched the rapidly swelling bruises across his cheek bone. “I wonder if the doctors will notice the extra damage?” she mused.

“Hawkeye, stop. Just stop caring about me!” he blurted out. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t stop her. I didn’t know if you were there …”

“Colonel,” she said.

“… or if I could even reach you,” he continued as the powerlessness he had felt gained a voice “I’m so sorry. I just …”

“Colonel,” Hawkeye cut him off. “Colonel, it’s ok. I’m ok, I’m here now. She’s gone.” She took his hand and laying it in her lap interlaced her fingers with his. A strong hand, and though it began trembling as he spoke, she gained strength from holding it.

“We’ll be ok,” she said, reassuring them both.

“I thought I saw you. But I didn’t know, if I was imagining it. I’m sorry I couldn't help you sooner.”

“Colonel, you have nothing to apologise for. Nothing,” she insisted. “You fought. I fought.” Hawkeye paused thinking of the days many battles. “At least, this time I fought,” she said. “We won. We move on. We’re soldiers. It’s what we do.”

Mustang knew she was right. They had won, this battle at least, and he knew there were many more to come. Self recriminations were pointless and it was time to keep moving. He assumed the demeanour of a commander.

“Perhaps you’d better call a Doctor then, Lieutenant,” the Colonel instructed. “It seems during my troubled sleep I’ve messed up my bandages.”

“One thing I’d ask, sir,” she said as she continued to embrace his hand.

“What Hawkeye, anything,” he answered without hesitation.

“You killed Lust in the tunnels. Incinerated that bitch down there. And that was it. We’ll… We will deal with this. We’ll be ok.” She looked at him with a wry smile. “In the morning you’ll chew me out for giving up in the fight. Just as you should. But about this,” her voice hardened. “Please, I don’t want anyone to know.”

“Yes, Lieutenant,” he simply agreed.

They sat awhile in easy silence, still holding hands, until Hawkeye finally stood and tidied the bed where she had been sitting.

“One other thing, sir.”

She drew herself up and squared her shoulders, assuming her usual precise yet comfortable posture, then turned towards the door. She had paused for so long that Mustang wondered if she was going to finish, and then, in a calm voice just above a whisper.

“I’ll never let you go either.”

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to [haganenobeato](http://archiveofourown.org/users/haganenobeato/pseuds/haganenobeato) and [ladywiltshire](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ladywiltshire/pseuds/ladywiltshire) for their generosity in beta reading and giving me really useful feedback. You guys are fantastic!
> 
> This germinated in my head after reading [this drabble](http://the-flame-and-hawks-eye.tumblr.com/post/154728684801/au-where-hawkeye-becomes-lust-but-mustang-stays) by "The Flame and Hawk's Eye". (Check out her work on FFN!)
> 
> Also I made a graphic, for use over on FFN, which I'm so chuffed with I'm going to show you it [here](https://lonepiper5758.tumblr.com/post/164214415471/coming-soon-to-ao3-and-ffn-im-still-tweaking-the), if you want to go and have a look.
> 
> So this story has been a bit different for me. Feedback and constructive criticism are always welcome. Hope you found it worth your time and thanks so much for reading!


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